Up to Speed

There is no order here...but I feel as though I can´t move on until I fill in some of June´s gaps (the gaps of April and May being way to far back for even attempting at resurrection). So let´s backtrack a bit, way back to my re-entry into Bolivia (after Brasil, its Permaculture Conference, gun shots in the night, a brief trip up the Atlantic coast and two very brillant weeks of romantic interlude in Rio) I crossed back into Bolivia on June 11th after illegally extending my stay in Brasil by two weeks, a fact which I was lucky went unnoticed by the border official thanks to my successful strategy to strike up chirpy, flirtatious niceties BEFORE handing over the passport. From the border, I bordered the notorious "death train", rightfully named for its propensity to derail and dish carnage into the semi-tropical Bolivian landscape. Trains always hold the promise of countryside unable to be seen anyway else. So, as promised, we seemingly passed straight through the backyards of rural poverty...me marveling in my mind over how life within the walls of those sandy-floored, slanted shacks unfolds for their inhabitants. While gasping for the hot, sticky air and bargaining with persistent child vendors, I was brought back to memories of endless train rides across India, only this time trading empenadas for samosas and CocaCola and jello for chai. I suspect it was within the confines of this humid, unsanitary transport that I encountered the little critter who crawled into my head and caused all the trouble I had written about previously. (as a side note, the critter was in fact found, dead, in my head on the third day I return to the hospital to have the wound cleaned). After rocking and rolling its way for 20 hours across Western Bolivia, we arrived, alive, at our destination, Santa Crux, Bolivia, and I moved immediately onward to the tranquil, sleepy village of Samaipata where two notable things happened; firstly, I began growing the horn I have now mentioned several times, and secondly, I met up with a lovely Brasilian named Diago with whom I began two weeks of amiable, adventure-filled travel that included hitching rides with impossible-to-understand Bolivian truckers and a week spent within an underpants-less, new-age spiritual community; Planeta de la Luz.